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Emile and Jess knelt beside Aualine's massive, still body as Jim sprinted into the chaos of the arena. The roar of the crowd had collapsed into panic, a sound as thick and choking as smoke. Screams echoed off the high stone walls, sharp and panicked — the sound of students and faculty alike...
Jim woke with a start, a low grunt catching in his throat. The light pouring through the windows was sharp and golden — midday sun, unrelenting and judgemental. His eyelids squeezed shut against it, lashes damp with sweat, and the familiar throb was already setting in behind his eyes.
"Fuck,"...
Jim sat in his chair like a man carved out of stone, the weight of the last few hours pressing deep into his bones. His body ached in that familiar, quiet way — not from any single injury, but from a dozen little scrapes, strains, and the exhaustion that came from keeping people alive on nothing...
Honestly, the reason they're all so stupid is that I watched Harry Potter while absolutely hammered, became irrationally angry at how useless the adults were, and started writing this while still wasted. Somewhere around Chapter Nine I accidentally became invested, and an actual plot began to form.
Threadmarks: Chapter 19 A Friendly Fist in the Dark
Jim led the way, low and quiet, his boots barely whispering against the earth. The maze twisted ahead like a coiled serpent, its hedgerows high and thorn-laced, each one glistening faintly with the deadly sheen of night-death blossoms. The air here was damp, heavy, and carried the faint copper...
Jim had been following Emile's progress from the viewing platform, eyes narrowed and arms folded.
The lad had already taken three wrong turns.
"Dozy bugger," Jim muttered, watching him disappear into another dead end.
I told him two lefts, then the mossy stone, then keep right. Bloody simple...
Jim stood on the viewing platform again, coat buttoned high against the bite of the wind, eyes scanning the rows of students below.
Fewer of them this time.
The lines looked thinner. Faces tighter. That illusion of invulnerability the one they'd worn on the first day like a cocky uniform had...
Jim had left Emile and Aualine to rest. The boy needed it — and so did the dragon, even if she'd never admit it. Aualine might grumble or rumble, but Jim knew the subtle signs of fatigue: the slower blinks, the longer breaths, the way her tail drooped when she thought no one was watching. She'd...
One suspect crossed off the board, but at least the conspiracy itself has gained a few more legs. Jim's back to following muddy footprints and threatening people until another lead appears.
Jim didn't bother sitting.
He stepped into the room like a storm barely contained, his boots dragging heavy echoes across the stone floor. The air shifted with him, oppressive, charged — like the seconds before thunder cracked open the sky.
"Let's not piss about," he said, voice low and solid...
Jim watched as Emile disappeared through the exit — battered, limping, filthy… but alive.
For a moment, his breath caught in his chest. Relief loosened the knot in his gut. Pride flared — sharp and unbidden. And underneath it all… something else.
She saved him.
Jim's eyes slid back to where...